


White Wine.

by RobertColfer



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Past Kurtbastian - Freeform, Sebastian Being An Asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:55:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28930623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobertColfer/pseuds/RobertColfer
Summary: When his Grindr match doesn’t show up, an asshole ex-boyfriend comes to gloat instead. Only a mysterious stranger can save the day now.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 10
Kudos: 78





	White Wine.

Kurt sat hunched in his seat, empty glass for his white wine sat untouched. The bottle too. He told himself that he’d wait to start drinking after his date showed up. No need to get sloppy early on a first date. Not when he hadn’t been on a date in almost a year. 

They had met on Grindr a few nights ago (how quaint). It had taken a while for Kurt to get through the matches and responses that all lead to talk of hooking up for a one-night event or sharing nudes for a quickie. Fifty-six matches later, he had matched with Gerard. The only one who had talked to him about trashy television and the best place to get a drink. Chino’s, obviously. Best bar downtown. As if there was any competition. 

Gerard was handsome, clean shaven, tanned skin, and that build that really would have any guy wondering what it would feel like to touch one of those bulging biceps. 

It had been their agreed meet-up spot, right at eight. Kurt checks his phone. Fifteen minutes late. 

“Well, hello Kurt.” A voice brings his attention away from his phone, needing to check for any possible texts or missed calls. The tiny shred of hope that the voice belonged to Gerard diminishes quicker than a lit match in a rain storm. 

“Sebastian. Hello.” His fingers grip the edge of the table, hoping the attempt at a friendly smile doesn’t falter too bad. “Fancy meeting you here on a weekday.” 

Sebastian smirks down at him, because of course he does. It’s still a sight that grinds his gears. “Had a hot date just now.” He supplies, sliding into the empty seat across from Kurt, arms folding on the table then directs a finger lift in what Kurt can decipher as a point towards a blond guy back at the bar. “We had a marvelous time in the bathrooms just five minutes ago.” 

“That must’ve smelled great.” Kurt doesn’t care if he sounds petty. Why hide that part of himself in front of his ex? “I’m sure whatever diseases you gave each other means you’re perfectly matched.” 

Poisonous green eyes find his again giving a chortle. “Oh, ouch. Diseases? Really? Stopping to attack me where it hurts? My very clean record with your assumptions?” He clutches his chest, feigning shock. “I am hurt by your words. That statement is so far from true, but oh, my ego.” 

Kurt rolls his eyes, mirroring the folded arms. “We both know it isn’t a clean slate. No matter what you tell yourself or Ken doll over there, you forget: I dated you.” 

“If only I could forget.” Sebastian deadpans. Kurt hates how it stings a little in his gut. “I have no idea what I was thinking; clearly I am not the boyfriend type.” He pauses, slanting a look towards Kurt. “Neither are you, though, so why bother rehashing over that?” 

“You’re pathetic.” 

“And yet, I’m not the one sitting alone at a table with an unopened bottle of wine.” 

Kurt drops his hands into his lap. “It’s rude to open a bottle before the date arrives, I believe it’s called manners. I don’t expect you to know what that means.” 

“You poor thing.” Sebastian reaches over, grabbing the white wine bottle from its bucket, and starts to undo the wax seal. “It’s okay to admit that you lack the sex appeal to any hot guy in this whole bar with eyes. We love Betty White, but that doesn’t mean we want to fuck her. Your date stood you up after seeing you, give it up.” The cap is removed next, allowing the wine inside to breathe. 

“That’s not true.” Kurt hisses, fingers curling defensively in his lap. “Just because I’m not throwing myself at every guy like a desperate spoiled rich boy who never had consequences for my actions doesn’t mean I am not desirable.” 

Sebastian tuts, pouring the wine into the glass opposite Kurt and helping himself. “Believe me, Kurt Hummel. The best man you could’ve been with was me. You can’t top this, no matter how badly you may try. You’re going to die single and alone, until you get some work done on your mouth perhaps. And maybe the nose. But even that may only get you pity hand-jobs by a desperate man who has no other choices himself.” He takes a drink, that cruel smirk still visible over the rim of the glass. Kurt hates him. 

What had he seen in this guy? His face was sculpted like a rodent found in the sewers. Had he been that desperate that he couldn’t find anyone else? It was Ohio, and the pickings were scarce. But god damn, how low could he have gotten in his life to agree to be fucked by this awful human being? 

“I think I see your date now,” Sebastian continues, pointing to an older gentleman at the bar. “Balding with grease stains on his shirt? Meant to be I say. Want me to put in a good word for you?”

“Excuse me.” Another voice cuts Kurt from saying anything in response. It’s possibly a good thing. His face is hot, his blood is boiling, wanting nothing more than to make a public scene by breaking the wine glass over Sebastian’s head. 

Sebastian, however, is highly interested in the speaker. 

“No, no, excuse me, you tall glass of water. Have we met?” He’s all charming smiles now. Kurt having to soothe the hatred boiling under his skin before he too looks up to be greeted by warm amber eyes. 

“No, we haven’t. I’m Blaine.” He holds a hand out for Sebastian to shake. “Kurt’s husband.” 

Wait. What? 

Sebastian’s grin fades a little. Kurt hopes he doesn’t appear as shocked as he feels. 

“Husband?” 

“That’s right. And it would seem you’re in my seat, so if you would be so kind as to vacate it so I can have my date with this gorgeous man; I’d really appreciate it.” 

Sebastian looks back at Kurt, smugness gone. Good. Lifting his chin, and standing, Kurt gives his savior a smile. 

“Hello, darling. I was beginning to worry.” He leans in, giving this perfect stranger - Blaine - a hug. Blaine presses a quick and friendly kiss to his cheek before pulling away.

“I am sorry, love; you know New York traffic can only go so fast.” 

“Husband?” Sebastian has put the wine glass down, standing up and looking down at the two of them, hands on hips. 

“Who is this man, Kurt?” Blaine asks, an arm sliding around Kurt’s waist, pulling them hip-to-hip, not backing down. Kurt gives him bonus points for the challenging tightness of his mouth. “I don’t recall you ever mentioning him to me before.”

“Nobody of importance, honey. Trust me.” Kurt waves it off. “He was just going back to his own date.” 

Blaine, the elegant actor that he is, moves in, and pulls Kurt’s chair out for him to sit back down.

“Right.” Sebastian glances back towards the bar, clearing his throat. “Well, it was fun catching up with you, Hummel. Enjoy your man candy on my behalf.” He winks towards Blaine then maneuvers back through the crowd. 

Kurt feels himself relax, waiting for when his ex is out of ear shot. 

“Thank you.” 

Blaine smiles at him. It’s so warm, pulling him out of the possible pit he was about to fall into. “It was my pleasure, Kurt.” 

“You wish to join me for some drinks?” 

“I think it’s best if I do. Hubby.” Blaine takes the now empty seat across from Kurt. 

“I haven’t had a husband before.” Kurt whispers, taking the wine bottle and pouring himself a glass too. “But as you are my knight in shining armor for the night, I think I can get used to it.”

Blaine wipes at his own glass with a napkin, ridding it of Sebastian’s fingerprints, he holds it out. “In that case, perhaps we should make this a real date? If you aren’t expecting anyone else, that is.” 

“I was, but I am more satisfied with the company I have right now. So, it’s a yes from me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” 

Their glasses clink in agreement. 

“My name is Blaine. Blaine Anderson. Student at NYU, and part-time Barista and Dental assistant.”

“Kurt Hummel. Vogue employee full-time.” 

“My husband works for Vogue? Wow, you’re way out of my league. I’m the lucky bastard by a long shot.” Blaine whistles softly, taking a drink of his wine, shaking his head. “I knew I would marry the most successful man in all of New York one day. Thank you fate.” 

Kurt hides his pleased grin behind his own glass, taking a drink himself. “How do you suppose we met?” 

“Oh, maybe you like picking up your coffee at the coffee shop around the corner every morning, and I was always the barista who took your order. I finally wrote my number on a cup, and you graciously texted me after that. It transpired from there.” 

“How long would you say we’ve been dating?” 

Blaine twists his mouth, tapping a finger against the glass. “When did you break up with...you know.” He gestures blindly behind him. 

“The baggage you mean?” Kurt can’t help but to sigh. “Three years ago. We weren’t really dating, just having a lot of sex, and then I graduated and moved here. He followed a year later. I came home to find him fucking the neighbor in our bedroom.” 

A hand covers his on the table. “Oh, Kurt. I am so sorry.” Blaine’s hand is warm, and Kurt misses it when he pulls it away. 

“It’s not your fault.” Kurt takes another drink. “It was mine for agreeing to hook-up with him multiple times then let him weasel his way into my apartment rent-free.”

Blaine is quiet for a moment, shaking his head when Kurt is downing the rest of his wine. 

“I say we blame him for making you feel less than important enough to be anything but a bed warmer. It would explain why he’s so cold now, he lost his warmth when he replaced you with a meaningless lay.” Kurt pours himself another glass, grateful for the low lighting. His face feels a little warm, flattery clearly reaching a breaking point. “Well, then how about it took six months for me to ask you out after that, and we got married just last fall.” 

“Oh, I adore fall colors!” Kurt gives a dreamy sigh turning jittery in his seat as the images of such an event (fictional or not) plays in his head. “We could’ve had a small ceremony, just close family and friends. The color scheme could’ve involved trimmings of orange, brown, auburn, and splashes of red and yellow.” He sits up straighter, lost in this role-play planning. 

“I think you were a perfect coordinator, making all the arrangements and detailed planning. I was in charge of the rings and making sure it went on without incident as you were busy at Vogue changing fashion for the world.” 

“I do concede with that image, o’husband of mine. Well put.”

Blaine laughs, taking another drink. “And it was the most beautiful wedding ever. It just made me fall that much more in love with you.” 

Kurt feels his heart stutter, distracting himself with another drink as well. 

The rest of the night is spent in getting to know one another. Family trees were shared, hobbies and passions were discussed with enthusiasm, and soft inside jokes about their ‘married’ life got spoken into existence. It was getting close for the bar to close, which was Blaine’s cue to pull out Kurt’s chair and see him home. Gerard never showed up, but Kurt didn’t find himself that upset. Talking with Blaine was easy, like catching up with an old friend from childhood. 

“Thank you, again, for tonight.” Kurt says, stopping outside his apartment building. “Would you like to come up?” His roommate, Santana, was working late tonight at the diner, so he knew they’d have the place to themselves. 

“As tempting as it is to join my gorgeous husband upstairs for shared kisses and coffee, I do have an early class.” Blaine gives a sigh. “So perhaps a rain check. If you’re comfortable with another time? Tomorrow or even over the weekend?” 

Kurt pushes caution to the wind, leaning in to give Blaine a brief kiss against his lips. “I’m free this weekend. Saturday evening more specifically.” He whispers, not breaking contact just yet, feeling Blaine smile against his lips. 

“Saturday evening it is.” 

They part, phones unlocked and exchanged for number sharing. 

“Text me when you get home?” Kurt asks, reaching for his keys in his jacket pocket. 

“Of course. I wouldn’t wish to cause you worry on my behalf.” Blaine gets one more kiss in, before he’s waving and quickly walking away. Kurt watches him go until he can’t see him anymore. 

He misses him already. 

As predicted, Santana isn’t there. He’s grateful. Still floating from tonight’s events, Kurt takes his time in undressing and slipping into sweats and a comfortable sweater, curling up on the sofa to watch a few hours of trashy TV. 

He has two texts waiting for him when he’s done with his skincare routine. 

**From Gerard** :   
_Sorry for not showing up tonight. Dog got sick._

 **From Blaine** :   
_I have made it home! Though I must say, it isn’t as nice without my gorgeous husband here to share my bed_. 

**_To Blaine_** :   
Oh, dear. I guess we have to do something about that, don’t we? Perhaps that’s what Saturday evening rituals are for! 

**From Blaine** :   
_Ohhhh! Duh. Of course. Silly me._

Kurt doesn’t even hide the laugh. Wasn’t like Santana was there to drill him with questions about what could possibly be that funny. 

**From Blaine** :   
_For reference, I’ll take the right side of the bed. Is that okay with you?_

 ** _To Blaine_** :   
Perfect.   
I did always prefer the left side myself. 

**From Blaine** :   
_Perfect is a good word to describe your choice, yes. So glad we have this communication thing down pat. Other married couples wish they were us._  
_I’m going to stop while I’m ahead though, and turn in for the night. Wasn’t kidding about that early class._

 ** _To Blaine_** :   
Understandable. I didn’t doubt you. You do need your rest. I look forward to Saturday, nonetheless.  
Goodnight, Blaine. 

**From Blaine** :   
_Goodnight, Kurt._


End file.
